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The  Bible  Definition  of  Religion 


The  Bible  Definition 
of  Religion  «^  ^  ^ 


BY  THE 

REV.  GEORGE  MATHESON,  D.  D. 


"He  hath  shewed  thee,  O  man,  what  is  good; 
and  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee  but  to  do 
justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly 
with  thy  God  ?  "  Micah  vi.  8. 


New  York        Chicago        Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

Publishers  of  Evangelical  Literature 


Copyright,  1899 

by 

FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


Appreciation 
By  Marcus  Dods,  D.  D. 

Dr.  Matheson's  preaching  is  invariably 
profitable,  full  of  suggestive  and  pregnant 
ideas,  and  enlivened  by  healthy  optimism. 
This  book  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a 
sermon  or  sermons  upon  Micah's  definition 
of  religion,  ''  to  do  justly,  and  to  love  mercy, 
and  to  walk  humbly  with  God."  Dr.  Mathe- 
son  urges  that  in  order  to  do  justly  a  man 
must  put  himself  in  his  neighbor's  place, 
must  pass  out  of  himself  and  incarnate 
himself  in  the  life  of  his  brother.  **  There 
can  be  no  justice  without  sympathy,  and 
there  can  be  no  sympathy  without  substi- 
tution," the  substitution  of  myself  for  my 
fellow-man  in  his  circumstances.  Mercy  in 
the  Christian  sense  Dr.  Matheson  distin- 
guishes from  pity  which  is  instinctive  and 
5. 


6  Appreciation 

painful;  from  the  philosophical  mercy 
which  springs  from  the  love  of  calm,  dep- 
recating hatred  and  revenge  because  they 
disturb  self-culture;  from  the  scientific 
mercy  which  is  built  upon  the  notion  that 
man  is  a  mechanism,  and  that  to  visit  crime 
with  penalty  is  a  survival  of  the  child's 
instinct  to  smash  the  door  when  he  is 
angry.  This  scientific  mercy  is  contemptu- 
ous. "The  very  ground  of  its  forgiveness 
paralyzes  its  power  to  aid.  It  says,  *  This 
is  a  helpless  creature,  and  therefore  not  to 
be  helped.'  It  pardons  on  account  of  in- 
competency; on  account  of  incompetency 
it  also  passes  by.  It  can  refuse  to  strike, 
but  it  is  nerveless  to  redeem."  The  mercy 
of  Christ  is  founded  on  the  opposite  basis 
— the  possibilities  of  man.  **  Walking 
humbly  with  God "  receives  in  Dr.  Mathe- 
son's  hands  a  new  interpretation.  The  hu- 
mility in  question  is  to  be  shown  not  to- 
ward God  but  toward  man.  A  man  is  not 
to  be  proud  of  walking  with  God  as  a  snob 


Appreciation  7 

might  be  proud  of  walking  with  a  duke  ; 
but  as  he  walks  with  God  he  is  also  to 
carry  himself  humbly  toward  his  fellow- 
man. 


Contents 

PAGE 

The  Bible  Definition  of  Religion  .     .     .  1 1 

"Do  Justly" 17 

'< Love  Mercy" 27 

<' Walk  Humbly  WITH  Thy  God  "   •.     .     .41 


The  Bible  Definition  of  Religion 


Religion,  says  Christ,  is  love  and  love  is 
gentle  toward  those  with  hollow  eyes  and 
famine-stricken  faces  *  *  *  And  this 
religion  of  love  takes  on  a  thousand  modern 
forms  *  *  *  Por  love  is  making  the  in- 
dividual life  beautiful,  making  the  home 
beautiful,  and  will  at  last  make  the  church 
and  state  beautiful  *  *  *  There  is  no 
force  upon  earth  like  divine  love  in  the 
heart  of  man — and  at  last  that  force  will 
sweeten  and  regenerate  society, — Newell 
DwiGHT  HiLLis  in  ''  Investment  of  Influence,'' 


The 

Bible  Definition  of  Religion 

**He  hath  showed  thee,  O  man,  what  is 
good;  and  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of 
thee,  but  to  do  justly,  and  to  love  mercy, 
and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy  God?" 
(Micah  vi.  8.)  Is  that  all  ?  Are  the  rela- 
tions between  God  and  man  of  such  a 
simple  nature  as  this?  Have  men  been 
tormenting  themselves  in  vain  ?  Have  the 
sacrifices  of  all  the  ages  been  useless — of 
the  Brahmin,  of  the  Buddhist,  of  the  Israel- 
ite himself?  What  shall  we  say  of  the 
Christian  ?  Is  this  doctrine  evangelical  ? 
You  enter  a  church  by  the  wayside.  A 
young  man  mounts  the  pulpit,  fresh  from 
the  university.  He  discourses  on  the  obli- 
gation to  pay  your  debts,  on  your  duty  to 
forgive  injuries,  on  your  need  to  realize 
that  you  are  a  poor  frail  mortal  who  have 
only  a  lease  of  life  and  must  ere  long  give 
13 


J 4     Bible  Definition  of  Religion 

up  your  place  to  another.  You  have  had  a 
sermon  on  the  three  virtues  of  Micah.  Do 
you  like  it?  Not  you.  You  come  out 
with  great  dissatisfaction.  You  say,  "This 
young  man  is  one  of  the  old  Scottish  Mod- 
erates; I  have  not  heard  a  word  of  the  Gos- 
pel to-day;  this  is  mere  practical  morality, 
what  might  have  been  preached  in  the  time 
of  Plato."  Yet  this  is  Micah's  creed;  this 
is  the  Bible's  own  definition  of  what  re- 
ligion is.  It  cannot  be  explained  as  an  ac- 
commodation to  Judaism,  as  a  preliminary 
training  for  benighted  men.  The  prophet 
is  not  addressing  a  nation.  He  says  in  so 
many  words  that  he  is  speaking  to  Man 
— man  universal,  man  cosmopolitan,  man 
wheresoever  he  may  be  found.  He  is  ask- 
ing not  what  we  need,  but  what  God  re- 
quires. He  is  looking  at  religion  not  from 
the  side  of  earth,  but  from  the  side  of 
heaven.  He  is  asking,  not  "who  is  fit  to 
dwell  in  Jerusalem  ?"  but  ''who  is  capable 
of  ascending  into  the  hill  of  God,  of  dwell- 


Bible  Definition  of  Religion     15 

ing  amid  the  blaze  of  His  burning  purity, 
of  subsisting  unscathed  in  His  eternal  fire  ? " 
In  the  light  of  the  cross  of  Christ  the  answer 
seems  a  startling  one. 

But  let  us  look  deeper,  and  I  think  we 
shall  come  to  a  different  conclusion.  When 
the  question  is  asked,  "Is  this  all.^"  I  am 
quite  prepared  to  answer '  *  Yes. "  But  I  hold 
that  this  ''all,"  instead  of  being  very  little, 
is  in  the  moral  sphere  absolutely  universal. 
I  think  the  error  lies,  not  in  the  creed  of 
Micah,  but  in  the  belief  that  the  practice  of 
that  creed  is  a  very  easy  thing.  I  main- 
tain, on  the  other  hand,  that  it  is  im- 
possible it  should  be  practiced  with  success 
without  a  very  advanced  stage  of  the  Chris- 
tian principle.  Preached  in  the  time  of 
Plato  it  might  be,  but  not  performed  in  his 
time,  or  at  least  not  performed  by  his 
method.  Chronology  has  here  no  place. 
We  are  not  desirous  to  exclude  from  any 
age  the  operation  of  the  Christian  principle. 
But  what  we  do  say  is  that  in  no  age  of  the 


i6     Bible  Definition  ot  Religion 

world  could  the  creed  of  Micah  be  lived 
ivithout  the  Christian  principle.  Neither  the 
Scottish  Moderate  nor  any  other  moderate 
is  entitled  to  appropriate  it.  It  demands, 
not  moderation,  but  extremeness.  It  re- 
quires a  state  of  mind  the  reverse  of  luke- 
warm. It  needs  the  storm  and  stress  of  the 
spirit.  It  is  no  primitive  condition  of  the 
religious  mind.  It  is  the  ripest  fruit  of 
evangelical  practice.  It  belongs  rather  to 
the  finishing  than  to  the  authorship  of  our 
faith.  The  man  who  has  mastered  the 
Epistle  of  James  has  reached  the  summer  of 
the  soul. 


Do  Justly" 


Justice  may  be  defined,  that  virtue  -which 
impels  us  to  give  every  person  -what  is  his 
due.  In  this  extended  sense  of  the  word  it 
comprehends  the  practice  of  every  virtue 
which  reason  prescribes,  or  society  should 
expect.  Our  duty  to  our  maker,  to  each 
other  and  to  ourselves  is  fully  answered 
if  we  give  them  what  we  owe  them.  Thus 
justice,  properly  speaking,  is  the  only  vir- 
tue, and  all  the  rest  have  their  origin  in  it, 
— Goldsmith. 


"Do  Justly" 

I  PROPOSE  to  consider  this  in  detail.  I 
wish  to  take  up  briefly  and  separately  each 
of  these  three  requirements,  and  to  show 
that  it  is  not  the  foundation,  but  the  final 
story,  of  the  building.  I  begin  with  the 
first  requirement,  "Do  justly."  From  the 
earliest  times  justice  has  been  thought  a 
most  prosaic  virtue.  It  was  one  of  the 
four  qualities  which  the  Greek  called  the 
golden  mean,  to  indicate  the  fact  that  it  did 
not  aim  high.  It  was  to  him  something 
intermediate  between  heights  of  heroic 
sacrifice  and  depths  of  human  debasement 
— a  sober  landing-place  v/hich  might  be 
reached  by  all,  and  which  involved  no 
trouble  in  the  climbing. 

Now,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
the  Greek  was  wrong  here — not  in  calling 
19 


20  "Do  Justly" 

justice  a  cardinal  virtue,  but  in  regarding  it 
as  a  golden  mean.  The  truth  is  that  this 
so-called  prosaic  virtue  of  justice  requires 
those  very  heights  of  sacrifice  from  whose 
elevation  it  is  supposed  to  set  us  free. 
When  we  read  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Gala- 
tians  that  the  law  of  Christ  is  "Bear  ye  one 
another's  burdens,"  our  first  impression  is 
that  it  is  a  step  higher  than  common  justice. 
In  truth,  it  is  a  step  preliminary  to  it.  There 
is  a  familiar  saying,  "  First  just,  then  gen- 
erous." As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  ought  to 
be  reversed,  "first  generous,  then  just." 
No  man  can  be  just  until  he  has  been  gen- 
erous. For  consider  what  is  implied  in 
justice.  Nothing  less  than  an  emptying  of 
yourself  into  the  life  of  another.  The 
reason  why  men  are  not  just  is  their  want 
of  sacrificial  power.  They  fail  to  put  them- 
selves in  the  place  of  their  brother  man,  to 
look  at  him  in  their  own  mirror,  to  say, 
''Should  I  like  this  done  to  me?"  The 
word    "generous"   literally    means,    "re- 


"Do  Justly"  21 

membering  the  race."  It  suggests  kindred 
sympathy,  fellow-feeling,  recognition  of 
the  fact  that  your  neighbor  has  a  nature 
like  your  own.  It  is  the  remembrance  that 
he,  too,  laughs  when  he  is  happy  and 
sighs  when  he  is  sad,  is  strong  when  he  is 
fed  and  faints  when  he  is  hungry.  And 
this  is  the  preliminary  to  all  justice — com- 
mercial, social,  legal.  I  must  become  the 
substitute  for  my  brother  before  I  can  be 
fair  to  him.  I  must  take  his  nature,  assume 
his  circumstances,  put  myself  in  his  place. 
I  must  give  up  myself  in  the  meantime 
altogether,  so  far  as  I  am  distinct  from  him ; 
I  must  live  in  his  person,  1  must  feel  with 
his  heart.  Without  this,  I  shall  do  him 
wrong. 

Let  me  take  a  concrete  example,  and  that 
from  the  simplest  sphere — social  life.  One 
of  your  friends  returns  from  town  in  the 
afternoon.  You  put  a  civil  question  to 
him;  he  answers  with  ill-natured  quick- 
ness.    You    say    to    yourself,     ''Well,    it 


22  "Do  Justly" 

would  be  perfectly  just  that  1  should  re- 
taliate; but  Christian  principle  restrains 
me."  You  mean,  of  course,  that  it  would 
be  right  morally,  but  not  evangelically. 
But  is  it  so  ?  Is  it  just  that  you  should 
retaliate  ?  Have  you  measured  the  circum- 
stances ?  Have  you  considered  whether,  in 
the  mind  of  your  friend  at  that  moment, 
there  was  a  sufficient  amount  of  resisting 
power  to  prevent  him  from  being  quick  ? 
Have  you  estimated  the  physical  pain  he 
was  suffering.?  Have  you  measured  the 
weight  on  his  mind  ?  Have  you  consid- 
ered how  he  was  fretted  at  the  Exchange  ? 
Have  you  marked  how  little  you  yourself 
were  really  the  object  of  the  explosion  ?  If 
not,  you  are  in  no  position  to  be  just.  This 
so-called  practical  morality  is  in  itself  the 
most  impracticable  of  all  things.  It  re- 
quires a  previous  act  of  sacrifice,  a  surren- 
der of  the  soul.  Thomas  Carlyle  cries  for- 
ever *'do,  do,  do."  But  there  is  only  one 
state  of  mind  that  can  begin  by  doing;  it 


"Do  Justly"  23 

is  the  state  of  the  slave.  The  slave  simply 
obeys;  he  knows  the  "what,"  but  not  the 
**  why."  But  the  freeman  must  begin  with 
a  thought — nay,  with  a  transcendental 
thought.  He  must  transcend  himself,  pass 
out  of  himself,  incarnate  himself  in  the  life 
of  his  brother.  To  do  a  commonplace 
service  he  must  yield  up  his  own  being, 
must  lose  himself,  must  live  in  another. 
The  more  commonplace  the  service,  the 
more  complete  must  be  the  surrender. 
Justice  is  a  harder  task  than  heroism,  just 
because  it  is  not  heroic;  and  the  man  who 
is  faithful  in  that  which  is  least  has  re- 
quired a  deeper  strain  of  sacrifice  than  he 
who  is  victor  in  that  which  is  much. 

It  is  a  familiar  doctrine  of  theologians 
that  Christ  ''  offered  up  a  sacrifice  to  satisfy 
Divine  justice" — to  pay  the  debts  of  man. 
It  is  truer  than  some  of  these  theologians 
dream  of.  It  is  not  an  abnormal,  a  miracu- 
lous thing.  It  is  the  illustration  of  a  uni- 
versal principle  which  holds  always,  every- 


24  *'Do  Justly" 

where.  To  estimate  the  debt  of  another  is 
not  an  easy  thing;  it  demands  a  sacrifice. 
It  was  a  bold  and  a  deep  insight  which 
ventured  to  affirm  that  Christ  Himself  was 
no  exception  to  the  law.  To  estimate  the 
debts  of  man  He,  too,  had  to  descend — to 
sacrifice.  He,  too,  had  to  begin,  not  only 
by  self-forgetfulness,  but  by  incorporating 
a  new  self — a  servant's  form.  He  had  to 
put  Himself  in  the  place,  in  the  environ- 
ment of  the  debtor.  He  had  to  consider 
His  circumstances,  to  live  within  His  ex- 
perience. He  had  to  measure  the  influence 
of  His  heredity,  the  force  of  His  passions, 
the  strength  of  His  temptations,  the  con- 
tagion of  His  surroundings,  the  power  of 
His  examples,  the  bane  of  His  upbringing. 
All  this  and  infinitely  more,  to  Christ,  to 
you,  to  every  living  spirit,  is  involved  in 
estimating  the  moral  debt  of  another. 

What  is  your  obligation  to  be  just  ?  Is  it 
the  civil  and  criminal  courts  of  law  ?  The 
large  majority  of  unjust  acts  are  not  pun- 


"Do  Justly"  25 

ishable  by  these  courts.  Is  it  the  belief  in 
a  coming  day  of  judgment  ?  That  is  an 
obligation  to  self-interest,  not  to  justice. 
Is  it  the  welfare  of  the  greatest  number? 
In  the  order  of  nature  number  one  is  the 
greatest,  and  each  man  is  for  himself.  Is  it 
the  existence  of  a  power  called  conscience  ? 
That  is  the  very  thing  to  be  explained. 
What  is  conscience?  It  means  literally  a 
*'  knowing  together."  In  the  things  of  this 
world  it  is  the  sight  of  my  brother  in  my 
own  looking-glass,  my  seeing  of  him  in 
me.  In  the  most  common  act  of  justice,  I 
have,  I  must  have,  a  double  vision  ;  he  and 
I  are  reflected  in  one  mirror.  There  can  be 
no  justice  without  sympathy,  and  there  can 
be  no  sympathy  without  substitution.  It 
is  in  vain  that  Moses  gives  the  law  until  he 
has  ordained  the  sacrifice.  All  the  smoke 
of  Sinai  would  not  say  to  a  man's  heart 
"Thou  shalt  not  steal,"  much  less  ''Thou 
shalt  not  covet."  The  commandment  must 
be  created  by  another  fire — a  fire  of  inward 


26  "Do  Justly" 

sacrifice.  The  Gospel  is  older  than  the  law, 
the  only  possibility  for  the  law.  Justice  is 
the  child  of  sympathy.  The  daughter  looks 
homelier  than  the  mother.  Sympathy  is 
the  joy  of  the  poet ;  justice  has  been  ever 
associated  with  life's  prose.  But  it  is  in 
our  poetic  moments  that  our  most  prosaic 
duties  are  best  performed,  and  it  is  through 
the  gate  of  sacrificial  love  that  we  escape 
the  mire  of  the  common  clay.  We  cannot 
rise  from  nature  up  to  Christ.  The  Chris- 
tian principle  must  be  behind  as  well  as 
before  us — the  Alpha  as  it  is  the  Omega, 
the  first  as  the  last.  The  life  of  daily  jus- 
tice is  lived  by  a  breath  of  the  life  eternal. 


Love  Mercy" 


Two  things  this  old  world  needs — tender- 
ness and  cheer.  All  about  us  are  hearts 
hungry  for  sympathy y  for  kindness.  We 
could  do  nothing  better  with  our  life  than 
to  consecrate  it  to  a  ministry  of  tenderness 
and  encouragement.  This  is  one  of  heav- 
en's paths  to  happiness^or  the  merciful 
shall  obtain  mercy. — J.  R.  Miller  in  ''Mas- 
ter's Blesseds." 


"Love  Mercy" 

I  COME  now  to  the  second  article  of  the 
creed  of  Micah — "love  mercy."  And  the 
question  which  immediately  suggests  itself 
is,  Why  should  mercy  be  regarded  as  a  dis- 
tinctively religious  requirement  ?  Is  it  not 
an  impulse  of  nature,  always,  everywhere  ? 
Can  we  say  that  the  nations  outside  of 
Judaism  were  bereft  of  this  quality  ?  It  is 
true  that,  measured  by  modern  culture,  they 
carried  on  war  on  a  savage  scale.  But  I 
have  always  felt  that  war  is  a  bad  test  of 
the  power  of  individual  sympathy.  On  the 
field  of  battle  men  are  not  individuals,  they 
are  mechanical  corporations,  designed  for  a 
test  of  destructive  power,  but  altogether 
free  from  personal  animosity.  It  is  true, 
also,  that  the  Roman  advocated  in  the  most 
literal  terms  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  and 


30  ''  Love  Mercy  " 

would  have  arrested  at  the  hour  of  birth  the 
life  of  defective  forms.  And  yet,  deeply  as 
1  deplore  that  such  a  phase  of  culture  should 
ever  have  existed,  I  am  not  prepared  to  say 
that  in  every  case  it  sprang  from  a  hard 
heart.  Rather  do  I  think  that  in  many  in- 
stances it  came  from  a  mistaken  search  for 
mercy  itself,  and  was  dictated  by  a  desire 
to  liberate  these  afflicted  beings  from  the 
necessity  of  meeting  a  world  in  whose 
many  mansions  there  was  no  place  for 
them. 

But  the  emphatic  word  in  Micah's  creed 
to  my  mind  is  not  the  word  *' mercy,"  but 
the  word  **love";  and  it  is  here,  as  I  take 
it,  that  both  the  originality  and  the  religion 
come  in.  The  old  world  certainly  under- 
stood the  quality  of  mercy  by  the  light  of 
human  nature.  But  I  venture  to  think  that 
neither  in  the  old  world  nor  the  new  has 
the  love  of  mercy  been  generated  apart  from 
the  Christian  principle;  and  I  shall  en- 
deavor, very  briefly  and  very  succinctly,  to 


"Love  Mercy"  31 

indicate  tlie  line  of  thought  v/hich  has  led 
me  to  this  conclusion. 

So  far  as  known  to  me  therp  are  only- 
four  sources  from  which  mercy  can  flow. 
Its  origin  may  be  either  instinctive,  philo- 
sophical, scientific,  or  humanitarian.  The 
last  is  the  distinctively  Christian  motive; 
and,  on  the  result  of  its  comparison  with 
the  other  three,  will  be  determined  the 
question  whether  and  to  what  extent  the 
principle  of  Micah's  creed  is  an  evangelical 
principle.  Let  us  glance  in  turn  at  each  of 
these. 

And  first.  There  is  an  instinctive  mercy 
in  the  heart  of  man.  It  is  described  by  one 
word — pity.  Pity  is  the  instinct  of  mercy, 
and  it  belongs  to  man  as  man.  But  is  pity 
also  the  love  of  mercy  ?  Love  supposes 
some  object  of  attraction.  Does  pity  imply 
an  object  of  attraction  }  Is  the  sensation  of 
pity  one  of  attraction  at  all .?  In  the  living 
being  attraction  involves  a  certain  amount 
of  pleasure.     Is  not  the  sensation  of  pity 


32  "  Love  Mercy  " 

one  of  pain  ?  I  think  it  is.  It  is  true  men 
go  to  witness  on  the  stage  scenes  of  horror. 
But  they  do  not  go  on  account  of  the  hor- 
ror; they  wish  to  see  the  situations  of  dra- 
matic power  which  the  horror  will  bring 
forth.  Pity  is  a  sensation  which  in  itself 
and  by  itself  is  painful,  and  therefore  repul- 
sive. The  men  of  the  most  pitiful  nature 
are  precisely  those  who  wish  most  to  avoid 
it.  Where  will  you  find  a  kinder-hearted 
soul  than  Oliver  Goldsmith  }  No  beggar's 
cry  could  reach  his  ear  without  emptying 
his  pocket.  And  yet,  if  Oliver  saw  the 
beggar  in  the  distance,  he  turned  the  corner 
to  escape  him.  It  was  not  the  wish  to  pro- 
tect his  money;  it  was  the  desire  to  escape 
the  pain  of  a  sad  story.  How  many  a 
young  minister  making  his  parochial 
rounds  feels  exactly  the  same  in  relation  to 
the  contact  with  sorrow!  I  speak  under 
the  influence  of  personal  memory.  I  can 
remember  in  early  days  the  self-congratula- 
tion I  felt  when  I  was  privileged  to  witness 


"Love  Mercy"  33 

no  scenes — when  I  had  a  day  with  no  part- 
ings, no  bereavements,  no  cries  for  bread. 
It  would  be  all  very  noble  if  at  such  times 
we  imagined  that  we  had  escaped  painful 
scenes  because  there  were  none  to  be  had. 
But  we  know  quite  well  that  we  have  only 
missed  them  because  they  have  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  another — because  they  lie  on 
the  other  side  of  the  street.  The  instinct  of 
pity  is  a  pain.  We  hold  it  in  the  heart 
with  tremor.  We  do  not  breathe  freely 
under  its  influence.  We  are  oppressed  by 
the  weight  of  its  presence.  We  are  re- 
pelled from  similar  experiences.  We 
would  fain  avoid  a  second  meeting.  We 
accept  the  sensation  as  an  accident;  we 
struggle  with  it  as  Jacob  struggled  with 
his  angel.  This,  surely,  is  not  the  love  of 
mercy ! 

The  second  source  of  mercy  is  philosophy. 
Its  representative  in  this  form  is  the  Stoic. 
The  phase  of  mercy  to  which  he  has  mainly 
addressed  himself  is  the  forgiveness  of  in- 


34  **  Love  Mercy  " 

juries.  But  the  ground  on  which  he  com- 
mends this  is  from  our  point  of  view  sug- 
gestive. He  is  impelled,  not  by  the  love  ol 
mercy,  but  by  the  love  of  calm.  He  depre- 
cates anger,  hatred,  malice,  and  all  unchar- 
itableness  ;  but  he  does  so  because  they  dis- 
turb self-culture.  Anger  is  a  pain,  and  the 
philosopher  should  be  superior  to  pain.  All 
excess  of  emotion  is  weakness.  The  blasts 
of  passion  that  sweep  across  the  soul  de- 
prive it  of  its  dignity  and  strip  it  of  its 
power.  The  wise  man  should  keep  within 
doors  when  the  gusts  are  raging.  He  should 
refuse  to  yield  to  any  solicitations  of  re- 
venge. Revenge  is  a  wave  upon  the  sea  ; 
it  breaks  the  level  of  the  waters.  The  level 
of  the  waters  must  not  be  broken.  Life 
must  be  an  equable  calm,  rising  not,  falling 
not — a  windless,  waveless  deep  upon  whose 
surface  there  broods  no  storm.  The  picture 
of  philosophic  rest  is  incompatible  with  the 
play  of  passions. 
It  is  true  ;  but  it  is  incompatible  with 


"Love  Mercy"  35 

more  ;  it  is  incompatible  witli  tiie  love  of 
mercy  too.  It  is  here  that  the  contrast  ap- 
pears between  the  Stoic  and  the  Christian. 
The  Stoic  would  conquer  angry  passion  by 
reducing  the  heart  to  stillness.  The  Chris- 
tian would  subdue  it  by  inspiring  the  heart 
with  a  new  movement — a  counter-passion, 
the  passion  of  love.  The  Stoic's  mercy  is  a 
negation — a  holding  back  lest  he  should  hold 
the  sword.  The  Christian's  mercy  is  itself 
a  sword — what  Paul  calls  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit.  It  is  a  weapon  raised  against  anger, 
a  force  which  battles  down  the  forces  of 
revenge.  Christ's  mercy  breaks  the  calm 
of  the  sea  wherever  it  finds  it.  It  cannot 
tolerate  indifference  in  a  world  of  wrong. 
It  repudiates  a  peace  where  there  should 
be  no  peace.  It  advocates  no  insensibility 
to  injury.  Rather  would  it  make  the  sense 
of  injury  a  motive  for  healing  the  man  who 
has  done  it.  "Lay  not  this  sin  to  their 
charge"  is  not  a  cry  that  comes  from  a 
blunted  sense  of  wrong.     It  is  the  voice  of 


36  "Love  Mercy" 

one  who  is  deeply  conscious  of  having  been 
injured,  and  who  therefore  is  deeply  con- 
cerned for  the  injurer.  It  is  a  mercy  spring- 
ing from  a  quickened,  not  a  diminished, 
feeling  of  pain. 

The  third  form  of  mercy  is  what  I  have 
called  scientific.  It  is  distinctively  modern. 
It  is  affecting  daily  the  decision  of  our  crim- 
inal courts.  It  is  built  upon  the  notion  that 
man  is  a  piece  of  mechanism  made  to  play 
a  certain  tune.  If  the  mechanism  is  up  to 
the  mark  the  music  will  be  good.  If  the 
mechanism  is  defective  the  music  will  be 
discordant.  If  the  mechanism  is  hopelessly 
deranged  the  music  will  be  non-existent,  the 
man  will  be  a  criminal. 

This  is  a  view  quite  distinct  from  either 
instinctive  pity  or  Stoic  calm.  It  is  founded 
upon  the  theory  that  man  is  a  poor  creature 
at  best,  and  a  very  poor  creature  at  worst. 
Indeed  between  the  best  and  the  worst  there 
is  no  moral  difference.  It  is  a  matter  of 
physical  organization.     To  visit  crime  with 


"Love  Mercy"  37 

penalty  is  a  metaphor,  a  legal  fiction.  It  is 
a  survival  of  the  child's  instinct  to  smash  the 
door  when  it  is  angry.  A  man  goes  wrong 
as  an  organ  goes  wrong,  as  a  watch  goes 
wrong.  Retribution,  in  any  strict  sense  of 
the  word,  is  out  of  the  question.  In  the  one 
case  as  much  as  in  the  other  it  is  a  disorder 
of  the  mechanism.  A  spring  is  broken,  a 
chord  is  broken,  a  note  is  wanting,  a  string 
of  the  instrument  has  been  relaxed.  It  is  a 
matter  for  regret,  but  not  for  anger. 

Now,  I  am  not  here  discussing  material- 
istic evolution,  and  with  this  theory  in  itself 
I  have  nothing  to  do.  I  am  only  concerned 
with  its  bearing  on  the  creed  of  Micah.  I 
do  not  ask  whether  it  is  false  or  true.  I 
say,  be  it  false  or  be  it  true,  it  is  not  the 
love  of  mercy.  It  is  founded  on  contempt, 
on  disparagement.  Contempt  cannot  bene- 
fit its  object.  It  can  arrest  retribution,  but 
it  cannot  confer  favor.  It  may  commute 
the  sentence,  but  it  will  not  employ  the  of- 
fender after  he  has  served  his  term.     It  will 


38  ''  Love  Mercy  " 

readily  consent  to  spare  the  men  of  Nine- 
veh ;  but  it  will  demur  to  send  to  them  even 
so  poor  a  teacher  as  Jonah.  The  very 
ground  of  its  forgiveness  paralyzes  its 
power  to  aid.  It  says,  "  This  is  a  helpless 
creature,  and  therefore  not  to  be  helped." 
It  pardons  on  account  of  incompetency; 
on  account  of  incompetency  it  also  passes 
by.  It  can  refuse  to  strike,  but  it  is  nerve- 
less to  redeem. 

In  startling  contrast  to  this  is  the  fourth 
and  final  mercy — that  which  I  have  called 
humanitarian,  which  is  popularly  called 
the  mercy  of  Christ.  It  is  founded  upon 
exactly  the  opposite  basis — the  possibilities 
of  man.  It  is  built  upon  the  belief  that 
man  is  not  a  mechanism  but  a  soul.  What 
it  sees  is  not  the  present  state  of  dilapida- 
tion ;  it  is  the  promise  and  potency  of  life. 
All  other  streams  of  mercy  have  their  source 
in  the  aspect  of  the  hour — instinct,  philoso- 
phy, science.  But  the  mercy  of  Christ  has 
its  eye,  not  upon  the  man  who  is,  but  upon 


"  Love  Mercy  "  39 

the  man  who  shall  be.  It  sees,  not  the  pres- 
ent, but  the  coming  hour — not  the  cloud 
of  to-day,  but  the  possible  sunshine  of  to- 
morrow. It  looks,  not  at  the  rags  and  tat- 
ters, but  through  them.  Through  the 
patches  of  the  rent  garment  it  catches  gleams 
— not  of  this  year,  but  of  next.  It  is  the 
future  which  stimulates  its  arm.  It  im- 
putes its  own  righteousness.  It  figures  its 
object  in  the  light  of  the  morning.  It  con- 
siders what  the  organ  would  be  if  it  had 
perfect  stops,  what  the  watch  would  be  if 
it  had  adequate  springs.  Not  because  the 
man  is  a  poor  creature  is  it  constrained  to 
save.  The  constraint  comes  from  the  op- 
posite perception — from  the  vision  of  his 
potential  glory.  The  mercy  of  Christ  is  in 
the  valley,  but  it  is  not  born  in  the  valley. 
It  is  born  in  the  uplands — in  hope.  It  en- 
dures the  cross,  not  for  the  grief  that  con- 
fronts it,  but  for  the  joy  that  is  set  before  it. 
It  is  the  mercy  of  love,  and  therefore  it 
works  by  faith — the  sight  of  to-morrow. 


40  "  Love  Mercy  " 

The  hand  which  impels  it  is  the  hand  which 
is  stretched  through  time  "to  catch  the  far- 
off  interest  of  tears."  The  love  of  mercy 
is  the  mercy  of  love,  and  love  has  gladness 
mingled  with  its  pain.  The  man  who 
shall  soar  to  this  height  in  his  own  strength 
may  pronounce  the  creed  of  Micah  an  easy 
thing. 


Walk  Humbly  With  Thy  God 


The  way  of  the  cross  rightly  borne,  is  the 
one  way  to  the  everlasting  life.  The  path 
that  threads  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane 
and  climbs  over  the  hill  of  Calvary,  alone 
conducts  to  the  visions  of  the  Easter  morn- 
ing and  the  glories  of  the  Ascension  mount. 
If  we  will  not  drink  of  His  cup,  or  be  bap- 
tised with  His  baptism,  or  fill  up  that  which 
is  behind  of  His  sufferings,  we  cannot  ex- 
pect to  share  in  the  joys  of  His  espousals 
and  the  ecstasy  of  His  triumph. — F.  B. 
Meyer  in  "  Peace,  Perfect  Peace.'^ 


"Walk  Humbly  with  Thy  God" 

We  have  now  arrived  at  the  third  article 
of  the  creed  of  Micah.  The  first,  justice, 
relates  to  my  actions  as  an  equal.  The 
second,  mercy,  relates  to  my  actions  as  a 
superior.  The  third,  humility,  relates  to  my 
actions  as  an  inferior  or  dependent.  Now, 
in  coming  to  this  third,  our  first  impression 
is  one  of  wonder.  We  are  surprised  that 
Micah  should  have  selected  an  act  in  which 
the  moral  precept  was  so  easy,  ''Walk 
humbly  with  thy  God."  Why  not  "with 
thy  fellow-man "  }  Is  it  not  in  humility 
with  man  that  the  difficulty  of  the  precept 
appears  ?  What  need  to  tell  a  poor  trem- 
bling human  soul  to  be  humble  before  God  } 
Are  not  the  bravest  awestruck  there  }  Is  it 
possible  for  a  frail  and  erring  spirit  to 
realize  the  presence  of  God  and  not  bend 
43 


44    ^^Walk   Humbly  with  God" 

the  knee?  We  can  understand  very  well 
how  in  the  temple  of  nature  a  man  may 
fail  to  rea/i'ie  God's  presence.  But  if  he 
has  once  come  to  walk  with  God,  if  he  has 
once  seen  the  King  in  His  beauty,  if  he  has 
once  "tasted  that  the  Lord  is  good,"  how 
can  he  do  otherwise  than  bow  ?  Is  not  the 
very  vision  of  God  the  vision  of  contrast  ? 
If  I  believed  Him  to  be  my  equal.  He  would 
be  no  longer  a  God  to  me.  To  walk 
humbly  with  God  is  a  redundancy.  I  can 
walk  humbly  or  proudly  with  my  fellow- 
man;  there  is  a  choice  of  alternatives  with 
him.  But  when  I  meet  with  God  there  is 
no  alternative.  If  I  walk  at  all  I  must  walk 
looking  up,  with  my  eyes  lifted  toward  the 
hills.  Surely  the  prophet  has  been  guilty 
of  an  anti-climax  here! 

Nay,  but  we  have  mistaken  the  meaning 
of  the  prophet.  I,  at  least,  believe  that  he 
means  something  very  different.  I  hold 
that  all  through  he  is  thinking  of  man,  not 
God.     I  take  him  to  have  had  in  his  mind 


"Walk  Humbly  with  God"    45 

the  simile  of  a  subject  walking  with  his 
sovereign.  The  subject  is  naturally  very 
proud  of  his  company,  proud  of  being  seen 
in  the  companionship  of  one  so  much  above 
himself.  He  is  eager  that  men  should  see 
in  what  society  he  moves.  He  takes  the 
most  public  streets,  the  most  open  thor- 
oughfares. He  lingers  at  the  chief  corners 
on  the  most  trifling  pretences.  He  is  de- 
sirous that  none  of  his  friends  or  enemies 
shall  by  any  chance  miss  the  spectacle  of 
that  high  favor  which  has  been  conferred 
upon  him.  It  is  not  in  the  presence  of  his 
sovereign  that  he  is  proud ;  it  is  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  fellow-man.  He  is  anxious  that 
his  neighbor  should  pass  accidentally  by,  to 
see  his  social  glory,  to  wonder,  to  envy,  to 
say,  "\  wish  I  were  in  your  place."  He 
would  like  his  brother  to  know  that  royalty 
has  deigned  to  recognize  him. 

Now,  let  us  apply  this;  we  shall  see  that 
the  pride  which  Micah  deprecates  is  a  pride 
before  man.     The  Jew  believed  himself  to 


46    ^'Walk   Humbly  with  God" 

be  walking  with  God,  and  to  be  walking 
alone;  he  claimed  a  light  which  the  sur- 
rounding nations  had  not.  His  attitude 
toward  the  God  with  whom  he  walked 
was  deeply  humble — I  should  say  rather  too 
humble;  he  was  afraid  to  commune  with 
Him.  But  though  he  was  too  tremulous  to 
enjoy  his  walk  with  God,  he  had  a  great 
pride  in  the  reputation  of  it.  He  wanted 
the  surrounding  nations  to  look  at  him  as 
he  passed  by.  He  desired  men  to  see  that 
he  had  a  peculiar  privilege,  that  he  was  a 
marked  man,  a  distinguished  man.  He 
wished  those  on  the  world's  road  to  be 
aware  that  he  was  one  out  of  the  common 
— chosen,  precious.  His  walk  with  God 
was  not  a  state  of  pride,  but  it  was  a 
source  of  pride.  He  boasted  of  it;  he  dis- 
played it.  On  the  ground  of  it  he  separated 
himself  from  his  kind.  He  dwelt  apart 
from  the  nations.  He  recognized  haughtily 
and  at  a  distance  the  brotherhood  of  com- 
mon men.     He  flourished  in  his  hand  that 


"Walk  Humbly  with  God"    47 

torch  which  gave  him  superior  illumination, 
and  he  bade  the  outside  multitude  attend 
and  admire. 

Such  is  the  pride  which  Micah  says  pure 
religion  must  conquer.  The  question  now 
is,  What  religion  ?  Is  this  an  easy  thing  to 
subdue  ?  Is  it  conquerable  by  natural  forces  ? 
That  has  been  tried — nothing  has  been  so 
much  tried.  The  great  struggle  of  the  old 
faiths  was  to  find  a  panacea  for  pride.  All 
asceticism,  all  sacrifice  had  its  root  there. 
Brahmanism  was  built  upon  the  basis  of 
self-humiliation  ;  Buddhism  was  reared 
upon  the  structure  of  self-extinction.  The 
light  of  Asia  was  kindled  at  a  sacrificial 
fire,  and  the  motive  of  its  kindling  was  the 
conquest  of  pride. 

Has  the  old  world  succeeded  ?  Let  us 
first  ask  what  it  has  aimed  to  do.  It  awak- 
ened one  morning  to  the  sense  that  it  was 
possessed  of  great  beauty;  and  along  with 
it  there  came  the  sense  of  great  pride.  It 
was  distressed  about  its  pride,  and,  to  get 


48     "Walk   Humbly  with  God" 

rid  of  it,  it  resolved  to  slay  the  beauty,  it 
did  slay  the  beauty;  did  the  pride  die  ?  On 
the  contrary,  it  became  proud  of  its  beauty 
slain — of  its  own  marred  visage.  It  began 
to  glory  in  a  strength  which  had  been 
powerful  enough  to  pluck  up  so  fair  a 
flower.  What  was  this  but  a  new  form 
of  homage  to  the  old  thing  ?  When  I  boast 
of  any  sacrifice  I  testify  to  the  attraction  of 
the  object  sacrificed.  I  tell  my  God,  I  tell 
myself,  I  tell  my  fellow-men,  that  it  has 
still  dominion  over  me. 

The  truth  is,  no  man  is  entitled  to  get  rid 
of  his  pride  in  this  way — by  the  process  of 
immolation.  He  is  not  entitled  to  get  rid 
of  it  in  any  way  which  would  involve  the 
denial  of  a  privilege.  Humility  is  not  the 
denial  of  a  privilege.  If  1  tell  you  you  are 
beautiful,  you  are  not  bound  in  the  interest 
of  humility  either  to  say  that  you  are  not  or 
to  feel  that  you  are  not.  You  are  not  of 
necessity  a  whit  less  humble  though  you 
should  answer,   *'It  is  true;  I  know  it;  I 


"Walk  Humbly  with  God"    49 

have  always  known  it."  It  is  not  in  this 
direction  that  humility  lies.  I  would  go 
the  length .  of  saying  that  if  there  is  no 
sense  of  privilege  there  is  no  room  for 
humility.  The  valley  implies  the  height; 
where  there  is  no  height  there  can  be  no 
valley.  To  deny  the  existence  of  your 
mountain  is  not  to  be  humble;  to  appre- 
ciate the  existence  of  your  mountain  is  not 
to  be  proud.  To  walk  humbly  with  your 
God  in  the  sight  of  men  is  to  walk  humbly 
with  your  strong  point,  your  possession. 
Nature  can  teach  a  man  to  be  docile  in  his 
weakness;  it  cannot  tell  him  how  to  be 
humble  in  his  strength.  It  can  convince 
him  that  he  is  a  poor  creature;  it  cannot 
make  him  bend  under  the  load  of  conscious 
riches.  That  is  a  humility  which  has  come 
with  Christianity  alone. 

What,  then,  is  the  power  which  enables 
a  man  to  walk  humbly  with  his  strong 
point  ?  It  is  love.  The  humility  of  Christ 
is  reached,  not  by  subtraction,  but  by  addi- 


50     ''  Walk  Humbly  with  God  " 

tion;  it  is  "more  life  and  fuller"  that  we 
want.  Let  us  say,  You  have  come  to  the 
knowledge  that  you  are  possessed  of  a 
special  revelation,  a  light  which  has  not 
been  given  to  other  men.  You  are  not  en- 
titled to  undervalue  that  light.  But,  to  pre- 
vent you  from  getting  proud  over  it,  there 
requires  to  be  something  added  to  your 
nature — the  love  of  your  brother  man. 
What  will  be  the  effect  of  this  love  ?  It 
will  cause  you  to  say:  Why  should  this 
beautiful  light  not  be  shared  ?  Must  I  keep 
so  great  a  privilege  to  myself  ?  Ought  not 
others  to  be  partakers  of  this  joy  ?  While 
I  have  it  alone,  it  burns  as  well  as  brightens 
me.  The  detraction  from  its  glory  is  the 
solitude  in  which  I  hold  it. 

This  is  the  distinctively  Christian  humil- 
ity; this  is  the  humility  of  Christ.  I  used 
to  wonder  how  Christ  could  call  Himself 
humble — lowly  in  heart.  It  is  vain  to  say 
that  such  riches  as  His  could  be  unconscious 
of  themselves;  they  neither  could  nor  ought 


"Walk  Humbly  with  God"    51 

to  have  been.  Theologians  have  spoken 
of  *'the  full  assurance  of  faith."  They 
mean  that  if  a  man  has  spiritual  life  he 
ought  to  know  it.  Nay,  why  argue  the 
matter?  There  is  nothing  more  certain 
than  Christ's  knowledge  of  His  own  great- 
ness, and  it  is  never  so  certain  as  in  that 
very  passage  in  which  He  declares  His 
heart  to  be  lowly — His  offer  of  universal 
rest.  Where,  then,  does  the  lowliness 
come  in  ?  Why  have  I  ceased  to  wonder 
at  the  claim  to  humility  on  the  part  of 
Jesus  ? 

Because  I  have  discovered  that  evangeli- 
cal humility  is  the  opposite  of  unevangelical. 
The  humility  of  nature  says,  "1  have  noth- 
ing; I  am  a  poor  creature."  It  is  a  very  easy 
thing  to  say,  easier  still  to  feel.  The  spec- 
tacle of  death  itself  would  teach  it.  But 
the  humility  of  the  Gospel  says:  "I  have 
something;  I  am  not  poor.  I  feel  the  pres- 
ence of  a  gift  within  me.  That  gift  makes 
me  a  debtor.     I  dare  not  hoard  it.     I  may 


52     ^^Walk  Humbly  with  God" 

not  keep  it  to  myself.  If  I  had  nothing  I 
might  be  ministered  unto;  but  because  I 
have  a  gift  I  must  be  a  servant.  My  pos- 
session is  my  call  to  what  men  name  hu- 
miliation. I  am  bound  to  work,  because  1 
have  an  inheritance.  I  am  the  servant  of 
every  man  who  has  not  my  privilege.  1 
can  have  no  rest  until  I  have  shared  it." 

That  is  the  humility  which  Christianity 
imputes  to  her  Lord.  "Father,  I  will  that 
these  whom  Thou  hast  given  Me  be  with 
Me  where  I  am,  that  they  may  behold  My 
glory."  It  is  from  the  full  sense  of  posses- 
sion that  He  speaks.  He  is  gazing  on  a 
scene  of  glory;  but  around  Him  are  a  mul- 
titude of  the  blind.  He  cannot  bear  the 
solitary  sight — the  thought  that  others  have 
it  not.  The  brightness  scorches  Him;  the 
undivided  joy  is  piercing  pain.  He  longs 
to  let  others  see.  He  would  rather  not  look 
at  it  in  the  presence  of  the  blind;  His  privi- 
lege is  sore  upon  Him;  He  veils  His  face 
from  the  glory.     That  is  the  lowliness  of 


"Walk  Humbly  with  God"    53 

Jesus,  that  is  the  lowliness  of  Christian 
souls.  It  is  the  pain  of  possession,  the  bur- 
den of  having  a  gift  alone.  It  is  the  de- 
mand that  my  fullness  should  share  itself, 
my  goodness  should  give,  my  love  should 
serve.  It  is  the  ministration  of  master 
minds,  the  helpfulness  of  holy  hearts,  the 
need  that  the  highest  natures  should  take 
the  lowest  room.  Those  whom  Christ 
calls  the  poor  in  spirit  are  they  who  have 
already  received  the  kingdom. 


Date  Due 

,    9     '31 

^ 

Srrii.n.ir,   Sprri 


1    1012  01008  8864 


